Second Kiss
by jesrod82
Summary: It feels absurd to be obsessing over a kiss right now, but this is Hermione... Hermione. Kissed me. Almost exactly one week ago… (Rated M for language)
1. Part 1

I wrote this story in reply to the following anonymous ask on my Tumblr blog, RomioneSmut:

 _Hey jes, So ive read random facts about romione and one said that their second kiss was at mr. Weasleys shed full of muggle things. So I was wondering ( I'm begging you) if you could write a little one shot based on that fact. Just a fluffy awkward maybe smuty one-shot pleaseeeeeee ? Lots of love_

 **Second Kiss**

I don't recall the exact time Hermione decided she'd had enough of not kissing me. I do know it's been at least six days and about twelve hours, because, judging by the sun high up in the sky, it's now noon, and I'm practically baking out here in the heat.

I'm sitting in the grass, staring at nothing, going over dates and times in my head. I'm calculating days and minutes now... Merlin help me. I need to talk to her about this. I've been waiting for a signal from her, that it's okay to bring it up, but she's just… and I'm- well, everything is so fucked up, isn't it?

Sometimes I feel like everything that happened before the battle was really only a dream. The whole war, defeating Voldemort, losing Fred, and Tonks and Lupin, and so many other people… it's changed everyone, including me. It feels absurd to be obsessing over a kiss right now, but this is Hermione, for fuck's sake. _Hermione_. Kissed _me_. Almost exactly one week ago…

I hear someone call my name. I turn sharply, shaken out of thinking about that bloody kiss for the fiftieth time this week. And there is Hermione, walking through the overgrown grass in sandals, wearing jeans and one of Ginny's Weird Sisters t-shirts, her arms swinging and long curls swaying back and forth behind her in a high ponytail. I stand up, and notice how her tits are clinging to the shirt, slightly bouncing as she jogs quickly down the small hill.

Suddenly she's right in front of me, clearing her throat and squinting up at me, her hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright sun. Her face is scrunched up as she cocks her head to the side, giving me a pinched smile.

"Hey," I say, smiling into her face, trying not to let on that I was just staring at her chest like some kind of perverted prat.

"Hi," she responds, her eyes shifting sideways, and it sounds like she's out of breath.

"Did you run here?" I ask, and she blushes, which is a strange reaction, but then she shakes her head and sort of bites her lip.

"No, I just… I'm a bit nervous, that's all."

"I reckon I am, too… a bit," I say, hoping our mutual nervousness will kind of balance each other out. "It's bloody hot out here, yeah?"

She frowns at the change in subject, unaware of my strategy. "I suppose so. But then, you are rather pale. Really, Ron, you could burn-"

"I know, you're right," I interrupt while she's still talking about the heat. Before she gets into lecturing me about protecting my skin I gesture toward the door of the shed. "We could talk in there, y'know, in the shade. So my neck doesn't burn." I rub my neck for added effect, but she's already at the door, opening it.

"Isn't that why you chose this location?" she asks, glancing back at me as if I'd lost my mind, which wouldn't be so far off the mark.

"Right, yeah. Obviously."

Inside, the shed is more like a large room built by my dad to house all his muggle things after my mum threatened to toss them if he didn't get them out of the house. Since then his collection has grown, and now there are shelves and tabletops filled with the stuff. However, not being looked after for so many months, there's a layer of dust on everything. I close the door behind me, blowing dust particles into the rays of sunlight coming through the windows in the ceiling.

"Not much shade in here," she says, then steps out of the bright light and into the only shaded corner.

"I forgot about those blasted windows. Who puts windows in a ceiling anyway? Dad says it's so he can use a telescope at night when it's cold out, as if he couldn't use a warming charm or something." I'm rambling as I make my way to the same darkened area of the shed. She's moved some things off of a table and is sitting on it, her legs swinging, her feet unable to touch the ground. I stop in front of her, my hands stuffed in my pockets.

"I've never been in here before," she says, her eyes roaming the shelves. "It's amazing how perception changes the way you see things." She pauses and her lip twitches as she catches my eye. "How it makes you appreciate them even more."

"I… yeah," I manage to utter through the haze of dust and not-so-subtle undertone of her words. I asked her here so we can talk about us, and that kiss, and where we stand with all of it. Yet, now I can't form coherent sentences with her looking at me like that.

"Ron?"

"Shit. Sorry." I laugh, because this isn't supposed to be hard. This is Hermione. My best friend. We've already kissed once, and she initiated it, so why am I so damn nervous?

"Ron, if you aren't ready, I understand," she says with a shaky voice. "With everything that's happened, I don't blame you. You need time to heal. But… I'm not going anywhere. And I don't think you are, either. I'm counting on it, actually."

I want to laugh, or cry, or both. I dunno what's happening to my brain, but my heart is wanting out of my chest it's beating so hard and fast. She assumes I need time to heal, but what she doesn't get is that I can't- not without her.

"I don't need time," I say, and watch as her legs stop swinging and her hands grasp the edge of the table next to her knees. I take a step closer and the tips of her sandals bump against my shins. "I don't want you to think I need space, or that I have to grieve alone, or whatever it is that's making you stay away from me."

"I'm not staying away from you," she protests quickly, but I shake my head to stop her.

"You know what I mean. It's not that… fuck, I'm not saying this right." I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath before starting again, looking into her serious face that is so focused on me, and only me, that I almost lose my train of thought. Again. "Look, everything is fucked up, yeah? I mean, we won and all that. Voldemort's dead, right? But there's still all this… shit. It hurts, and it will for a long time, I reckon. But besides all that, I can't stop thinking about- about…"

"Me?" Her voice is small, but her smile is big, even though her eyes are sad, and everything about her tone and expression is exactly how I'm feeling. Fucking hell, she's perfect.

"Yeah," I breathe out, and I find myself smiling back. "It's a brilliant distraction, mind you, but driving me mad at the same time."

"You're not the only one," she says, her smile fading. "I thought I was doing the right thing. Waiting. But now…"

I take another step, and I'm standing between her knees, so close I can feel her breath on my chin. She sits up and her eyes are level with mine, fluttering around my face from my eyes to my lips, and back again.

"I don't want to wait anymore," I reply. And when she licks her lips I swear I can fly straight up through those ceiling windows. I've never seen her look at me like this before. She's making it very clear that she wants me to kiss her. I wonder if I should ask permission first, as a gentleman, but I remember how she practically threw herself at me last week, so why can't I do the same? At least she knows it's coming, right?

She blinks slowly and her chest is rising and falling rapidly, as is mine. I raise a hand to her face and touch her cheek. Her eyes close, and remain that way while I take a second to stare at her. Merlin, she's so soft and small and tan, compared to my giant, pale, and freckled hand. I'm in awe as I cover her jaw and neck, and my thumb gently rubs her chin.

I add my other hand to the other side of her face, and whisper, "Is this weird?".

She shakes her head and lets out a soft chuckle, her eyes still shut tight. "A little, but it's a good weird. Your hands are warm."

I grin as I move them down around the back of her neck, my fingers threading through the curls that were too short to fit into the ponytail. She shakes, and laughs again.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she whispers, licking her lips again. "It tickles."

Then I feel a tug on my shirt, on both sides, and she's pulling me in closer. Her legs open wider to let me in until my pelvis is touching the table, and my thighs are trapped inside hers, and I think maybe I'll pass out before I even get to kiss her.

So, before any more thoughts get in the way, I dive into the remaining space and finally, finally, press my lips against hers. Last time it was during the heat of battle, and Harry was there. This time we're alone, and there is no apparent threat to our lives inside this dusty old shed, in our shadowy corner. There is no rush, so I take my time, wanting to feel every centimeter of her lips with mine.

I'm holding her head with my hands, keeping her up as she sort of sinks into me. She feels fucking amazing; not just her soft skin and hair in my hands, or the fact that I can feel her breasts pushing against my chest, or her thighs squeezing together, rubbing on my legs. All of that is making my cock twitch in my pants (which I'm keeping strategically away from her). But I'm talking about how right this feels; the relief and familiarity of her kissing me, yet at the same time I'm excited for this new feeling of being so sure of something, of where this is going. There is definitely no turning back now, and above everything else, that is what's so fucking amazing.

Her hands are roaming up my sides and onto my shoulders as I tilt my head and her mouth opens a bit more, allowing me to trap her lips between mine. Her arms are wound around my neck, her hands are in my hair, and I groan, flicking my tongue across the font of her teeth. She gasps, but doesn't let go, and we both take a deep breath before going back in, this time deepening the kiss, and I can tell she's never done anything like this before. So, with one hand on the back of her neck, and the other now on her chin, I push my tongue inside her mouth, gently rolling it around hers, just once, then pull away.

I open my eyes to watch her reaction: Her eyes are still closed, and she seems frozen for a moment with her lips pursed before curling them into a smile.

"Wow," Hermione sighs, blinking at me with watery eyes. "That was…"

"Bloody brilliant?"

"Exactly."

I'm sure if anyone were to walk in on us at this moment we'd look right stupid just starting at one another with our eyes wide and dumb grins plastered on our faces, especially given the state of things. But I'm too far gone; I'm riding high on this second kiss. How different it was from the first one, and calculating how many more we can have in the future. An infinite amount, if I have anything to do with it.

I'm looking at her, knowing that she's thinking the same thing, and it's as if nothing can touch us right now. Not for a million miles.

"Do you want to do it again?"

XXXXX

I currently have a part 2 halfway written, but not sure if I'll finish it or not. If that is something you'd like to read let me know! Thanks for reading!


	2. Part 2

Thank you for your lovely and encouraging reviews from part one, it really helped! I have to say, it has been a few months since I've written anything, so the following chapter is a bit… much. I changed the rating to Mature because their interactions escalate beyond just kissing. (A fun way to say smut haha)

 **Second Kiss, Part 2**

We're no longer kissing, but the pointed end of his tongue sliding across my teeth; the gentle, yet insistent, way he sucked on my lips before releasing them; the residual sensations are making their way all the way down to my toes. And here I am, grinning like an idiot, unable to say anything except:

"Wow. That was…"

"Fucking brilliant?"

"Exactly."

"Do you want to do it again?"

Ron's words come out in a low, husky voice, sporadic breath hot on my brow. His tall frame and lengthy arms are enveloping me. His hands, rough from years of Quidditch and climbing trees, seem larger than ever, cradling my face as if I'm made of glass. The scent of sweat and chocolate, combined with the radiating heat coming off him in waves, is making my head spin and I almost sway from the intensity of this moment. But I'm fascinated…

I see him so differently, in a way I hadn't thought of until now. There is an unmistakable need in his eyes: blinking slowly at me, in a much more familiar way, letting me in and soaking me in all at once. It's a rather intense sort of feeling, to know the exact moment when you fall in love with someone who feels the same way, without as many words.

I close my eyes to take a break from all the newness of him - of us - and take in a shuddering breath.

"Alright?" His nose nudges mine.

"Yes," I say, my voice cracks just below a whisper.

Then he kisses me so softly I barely feel it before he pulls back. I lift my head and he kisses me again, this time a bit longer before pulling away. He repeats this pattern, each time going in for a longer kiss than the last, each time adding to the ensuing chaos in my belly and chest.

"Hermione," he moans against my mouth, and I'm shaking as he prods my mouth open with that blessed tongue of his. His hands move from my face down my shoulders to my waist, squeezing my sides before wrapping his arms around me. He breathes in sharply as he lifts and hugs me simultaneously, until I can feel his heart racing along with mine.

I can't get enough of this new way of kissing, of being so intimate with Ron… _Ron_. I thought I knew everything about him, after all these years of friendship, but this- this is incredible…

I slide my bum to the edge of the table to get even closer, to feel more of him, but as soon as our hips touch it's as if I've suddenly caught fire. I grasp the edge of the table to keep from falling to the floor when he wrenches himself away from me.

"What- What happened?" I'm confused, watching as he runs a hand down his face, looking agitated.

"Sorry, I… I got excited."

I huff and cross my arms over my heaving chest. "Well, I would hope so." He's fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, pulling it down, and I see it- a prominent bulge in his trousers, and my cheeks are now positively actually on fire.

"Oh!" I clamp one hand over my mouth, but a giggle escapes anyway.

"I can't help it. It's your fault, you know," he says, giving up on his shirt and looking down at the floor, embarrassed. I, on the other hand, am greatly pleased by all this.

"Ron," I reach out with one hand, and roll my eyes, impatient to continue where we abruptly left off. "I don't mind, so quit acting silly and get back here."

His grin is growing wider with every second, embarrassment shifting dangerously closer to arrogant. He takes my hand and, albeit still hesitant, settles between my legs. I resume my previous position, sliding to perch on the edge until our cloth-covered groins are touching and my arms are once again around his neck, and we're aligned so perfectly. The energy surrounding us is on an entirely different level than just moments ago. I am trying desperately to remain calm as excitement, apprehension, desire, and impatience are all fighting for dominance within my mind and body.

"You sure you don't mind?" he asks before glancing down between our legs, then back to my face, searching me for affirmation.

"Yes, I'm sure," I whisper, and stop myself from talking when Ron's hands slide up the tops of my thighs to my hips, holding me there as he pushes his hips forward, pressing his hardness into the heat between my legs.

"Oh my god," I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth.

"Fucking hell…" He does it again, and I moan, again involuntarily. I hear him mumble a swear word, and his grip on me tightens, making me squirm.

Then one hand is on the back of my neck and, with a groan in his throat, he bucks his hips again as his lips press on mine, hard. Then his tongue reaches deeper– another new kind of kiss.

Soon enough, we're lost in a sea of mouths and limbs and hair and folds of fabric. Fingertips tickle what I assume must be the most sensitive part of my body because I let out a snort and gasp from the touch.

"Sorry," Ron chokes out after ripping his mouth away from mine, and yanking his hand back from underneath my shirt, letting it hover above my stomach, as if he's unsure of what to do with it.

"You tickled me. It's fine," I say through exaggerated breaths and giggling.

Then we're both laughing at the awkwardness. But it's alright. This is fun, and new, and exhilarating, and I am allowing happiness to run through me, just by seeing it in his eyes and that crooked grin.

"Do you want to…?"

"What?" I ask, my heart suddenly doubling its heartbeat. The image of us doing what I think he's asking me flashes across my mind, and I'm not surprised at the rush of heat that seems to spread across my abdomen.

"I dunno- talk… about things? About us?"

"Oh… Is that what you'd rather be doing right now? Talking?"

Before I can think on it for too long, I grab hold of his idle hand and place it palm side down on my chest. I let go and we both watch silently as it slides downward, stopping to rest on my left breast.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes."

His other hand joins in to lift and squeeze my breasts, and his expression is as if I'd just given him an entire case of chocolate frogs. I let out a small laugh, which he returns, and suddenly it's normal to have Ron Weasley groping my chest while kissing me, and grinding his hips between my legs in the middle of the day in his father's dusty shed.

I'm already thinking ahead, wondering how often we can get away to satisfy this want of kissing and touching. How long do we have to wait until the next time there is an opportunity so that I don't go mad, now that we're doing things I've only ever daydreamed about? The scenarios I'd come up with in my head as we sat across from each other in the Great Hall; while we camped out in the same tent for months; and this past week, after finally getting a sliver of what it is like to kiss him, and then not being able to pursue it, was so very difficult, especially with all the sadness and anger and trauma in between.

And if it can feel like this, even now, I can only imagine the future when we have, hopefully, healed a bit more, allowed ourselves to be happier, to accept the life that we deserve- essentially live the way those people we lost won't ever be able…

"Hermione," I hear him whispering. I hadn't noticed he'd stopped kissing me until I blink my eyes open and they're wet. I sniff and his thumb is swiping across my cheek.

"I'm… sorry…" I can barely get the words out on account of the fact that I'm blubbering. "I was- just thinking… how we… and they- can't- but I'm…. so… sad- no, I'm happy... I dunno…" I sort of finish whatever it is I am trying to say, not knowing if he understood any of it. But it doesn't matter, I suppose, because he is hugging me tight- almost to the point of crushing me, but I don't complain. I know I am practically choking him with my arms around his neck, my wet face pressed to his shoulder- and he doesn't utter a word.

He sniffs loudly, shaking slightly as he begins to cry. I feel awful for ruining the moment, but then his large hands are rubbing up and down my back, and my fists are full of his shirt. He's shushing me. Soothing me. Even through his own grief and pain, he is trying to make me feel better. Before I can tell him I'm alright, that he needn't worry about me, he speaks into my hair, very softly:

"This is really happening, isn't it?"

I smile at the wonder in his tone- that he even has to ask, as if he needs verification of this new reality. I smile because I am thinking the same thing…

"It _feels_ real."

"And nice."

"Yeah…" I sigh. The achy feeling in my chest starts to ebb, and the fluttering wings of soft chaos returns. "More than nice, I think."

"Yeah."

Such a simple, small word, yet said in a tone that reignites the fire previously put out by our tears. Without pulling away, Ron's fingers fumble with the hem of my top, pulling up and up until he's touching the edge of my bra just as I begin kissing behind his ear. I arch my back and kiss his mouth before he can ask if it's okay, sending a clear message to keep going- for goodness sake, keep going.

Ron gets the message loud and clear: He kisses me back, hard and fast, as he works on the clasp of my bra. I help him along, and suddenly my nipples are rubbing against the palms of his hands, and we both groan. Tiny fireworks are bursting in my chest, trickling up and down my entire body.

"Oh," I breathe against his lips, then press my forehead to his and bite my lip when he rolls my hardened nipples between his fingers.

I take my top and bra off, tossing them over my head. I'm breathing heavily, watching him watching me, and feeling the most uninhibited I'd ever felt in my life.

"Fuck, Hermione…"

"I just want to make something clear." I'm panting, about to pounce him, but I have to get this out. "We are _not_ going to shag. Not here, anyway. Not today."

Ron's eyes are open wide and he's nodding his head aggressively. "Yeah, okay- of course. I didn't- I mean, whatever you want. This is…" His eyes flicker down to his hands frozen on my breasts, covering them completely. His face lights up and the cocky grin is back. "I mean to say, I'm good. No worries."

And we're practically attacking one another again. His shirt has somehow found its way to the floor, disturbing the dust, sending a cloud of it billowing around us. I can feel his erection high on my inner thigh, prodding me through his trousers and my shorts as I rake my nails down his biceps.

Then he drops down to his knees and his mouth is between my breasts, his hands pushing them together, his lips finding each nipple and teasing them with his tongue, sucking them in, and grazing them with his teeth. It's amazing; it's invigorating; it's not enough.

I brace one hand on his shoulder and slither down off the table to straddle Ron's thighs. He grabs my bum, digs his fingers into my hips, making me squeal. And we start over in this new position, figuring out how to fit our bodies in such a way where we're touching as much as possible while keeping our lips and tongues busy doing something else. I'm lost in this bubble of hands and mouths and squirming and moaning…

I can't believe this is happening, just after our second kiss. I'm curious, but hesitant. This moment is opening the door to an entirely new and unexplored world- and that's scary. But it's the kind of fear that sends my inquisitive mind into overdrive. The challenge of navigating this relationship, the thrill of knowing there is so much more to learn about each other… I want to open him like a book, read him front to back, turn down his pages until we're both saturated in one another's stories…

"Ron…" I say when he starts to drag his lips along my jaw, "I love you so much."

He stops and jerks his head up, swallows thickly. "Yeah?"

I nod and he kisses me deeply for several seconds, pulling me flush to his body until I have no choice but to push him away gently so I can breathe. Then, "Gods, Hermione… I love you, too, you mad witch."

I smack his arm then kiss his wide smile as I push him down. My knees are on the dirty floor, and my hands are on his chest. I can feel him so much better this way- his erection is long and hard as a rock, and it is just… _right there_. We're looking knowingly at one another. A glint in his eyes lets me know what he's going to do before he does it: his hips rise so I grind down with mine simultaneously, and a growling moan of various tones escape us.

"Wow," I gasp, swiveling my hips and eliciting a brand new jolt of electricity to my core.

"Do you like that?" he asks, unnecessarily, after thrusting upwards, after hearing me grunt with pleasure. I can only hum and thrust back as a reply.

And then we're kissing again and moving against each other, changing rhythms and speeds, which doesn't last long because we're both riding on years of pent up frustration and mixed messages and ill-concealed emotions. Our resolution to all the confusion is bringing one another to the brink, and then beyond as I feel him shaking, his grip on my waist tightening. I cry out into his mouth as the tension builds and we're suddenly stopped. He is holding me to him in a vice grip as my pulse is thundering between my legs, and with a gasping grunt and his hands pushing down on my bum, I know he just came.

"Holy buggering shit," Ron murmurs. Then it's as if he is a deflated balloon, collapsing onto the floor, closed eyes to the ceiling. I am struggling to catch my breath, not bothering to move, as if I could with his arms still keeping me there with my head on his chest, rising and falling rapidly with his quickened breathing. He starts lazily running his fingers up and down my spine, and I snuggle in closer.

"So… was that alright?"

I let out a snort and a soft chuckle at this, and he shakes us with his quiet laughter.

"You know, you really do ask the most unnecessary questions."

XXXXX

Thank you so much for your reviews from the first part! A lot of you wanted a second part, so I hope this was worth the wait. This story wont continue as it's just a bit of super fluff, but I'd love to know what you think of it!

Thanks for reading!


End file.
